Going to Church
by Alfonsina.d
Summary: A little Grandma Mazur/Stephanie bonding on a Sunday morning. I hope you like the little twist at the end. One shot  didn't mark as complete earlier .


Disclaimer: JE gets the Dough but we get to have the fun.

**Going to Church  
>by Alfonsina <strong>

I have never been good at playing opossum at o'dark-thirty, especially not when someone else has been considerate and made really good coffee and has bacon started on the stove. Despite the enticements from the kitchen, I wanted, no I needed, more than four hours of sleep. My sofa is lumpy, the pillow was flat, and the blanket was too thin, but other than that, it was much better than the floor. I tried to rollover on to my side so that I might be able to snatch at least another hour of sleep before I had to face the world. Just when I thought I might have pulled it off, Grandma Mazur pulled the pillow from under my head. "Stephanie, it's time to get up. Rise and shine, lazy bones."

I groaned and tried to snatch the pillow back, all I got was air and a lot of it. "I had a long night. I'm tired. I need just a little more shut eye."

"Nothing doing. It's Sunday and it's time for church." Grandma leaned over and yanked the sheets and blankets down. I had always wondered where my mother's morning efficiency came from; it came from an undersized drill sergeant who was determined to see Father Doyle. Grandma had a crush on Father Doyle for thirty-five years; he looked like a Ken doll complete with plastic smile and steel colored hair. Both she and my mother called him Father What-a-waste in private. Before my parents met, my grandmother tried to talk Father Doyle out of his vocation as a father and become a father. She figured if she couldn't have him, she should be able to keep him in the family. Eww. I'd known Father Plastica, as I thought of him, since I was a kid and the idea he might be fodder for my grandmother's fantasies just hurt my stomach.

"I think I hate you right now, Grandma."

"You never come to church anymore and I think you're missing out on something special. While you shower I'll make MM pancakes for you."

MM, Double M, also known as Mickey Mouse pancakes were the ultimate bribe when I was a kid. I mean they tasted just like the regular kind, but hey, this was Mickey Mouse we're talking about and I always did have a think for MM as well as blue M&Ms, but that's another story. "Fine. We'll go later when I'm actually awake." I tried to roll back over, but there is only so far you can get on a narrow sofa before you have no place to go or you're on the floor.

"No. You don't remember the point of going to mass do you? Go early and get inspired for the rest of the week. Plus I bought you a new outfit just for today. The bag is on the bed."

Dad and Grandma had another fight to end all fights about three days ago. I don't even know what it was about. All I know is that I got custody of Grandma until the coast was clear and she could sneak back, Dad won a big pot at poker, or Mom made his life miserable until she was allowed back into the house. My money was on option number three; I was the stealth weapon in Mom's arsenal. If things didn't go Mom's way soon, I would come over and cook in the afternoon and Mom would pass the meal off as one of hers. After about three nights of my lack of culinary skills and Dad would cave. It worked in the past, no reason to think it wouldn't work now.

Not that having Grandma stay with me was all that bad. Other than the fact I got to sleep on the sofa and couldn't have any adult sleepovers, the food was good and my apartment was spotless. Besides, she makes me think that you don't have to have a lot of gold to appreciate your golden years – just a healthy imagination and evidently a need to go to mass regularly.

"Does it really mean that much to you?" I hated to whine, but it had been a long week and Pat "Bang-Bang" Hazinski had been a pain in my ass all week and I had serious bruises to admire while I slept in the bathtub.

Grandma nodded. "You have no idea. I look forward to this every week. The older I get, the more I have to look forward to."

Thanks for the extra helping of guilt, Grandma. "Why don't I just drop you off in front of the church and Agnes Schmitz can drop you off after."

"Nothing doing. Consider this to be a grandmother-granddaughter bonding experience. It will be one you'll thank me for one day."

Right. I might thank her some day, but not today. Today Grandma wanted to share in the glory of God and all of his creations with me and I wanted to share quality time with my pillow. God would understand, wouldn't He? It wasn't like I hadn't missed mass before.

"Grandma?"

"Yes?" Her voice was almost drowned out by the distinct sizzle of a fresh piece of bacon being lovingly placed in the hot frying pan. Apple smoked bacon. Grandma was playing dirty. Maybe I should get up and take some notes.

"Fine. We'll go."

"I knew you'd see things my way. Don't forget you have to wear the clothes I bought you."

The last time Grandma bought me something to wear, I was in high school. It was a green spandex dress that was too short and too tight for me; there was more fabric on one of those oversized exercise bands. I had a feeling my luck wasn't going to be any better today than it was when I was fourteen.

Twenty minutes later, I was up, showered, dressed and fed. Two minutes later we were in the car and on our way.

"Grandma, I'm not getting out of the car in this getup." I told her I would wear it, but not that I'd actually get out of the car and be seen in public in the thing. True to Grandma's innate sense of style and probably some hints from Lula, my new hot pink tank top, which was two sizes too tight and so low I could almost see my own belly button, and my brilliant blue shorts, which were scarcely longer than my undies, were on and I was just covered enough not to get arrested for indecent exposure. If she'd made me wear my platform sandals, I could probably have worked a corner on Stark Street. Thank God she didn't pay attention to my footwear and I was able to wear my sneakers. "Besides, I think you'd look so much better in the new dress you just bought." Old women wear dresses to church, right? Grandma's turquoise tracksuit with neon green stripes would make her stick out, wouldn't it?

"Come on. We've got to get a move on or we won't get a good seat up front."

I was about to turn the car in the direction of the parish in my parents' neighborhood when she informed me she had a better route to the church. A more scenic route.

"This isn't it," Grandma said as we circled yet another block. "I know we're close. I can feel it."

The way I see it, everything is a little bit of good news vs. bad news. This was no different. The good news? Grandma was lost. The bad news? Just how hard is it to lose a building? It isn't like Catholic churches get up in the middle of the night and move to get a better view of the freeway. The better news? The longer we were in the car, the less time I'd have to worry about who saw me in this outfit. The worse news? I was almost out of gas and only had three dollars in my wallet. If we didn't get to the church soon, I'd be walking down the street hoping none of the cops I knew picked me up, or worse.

Just when the light went on informing me I had less than half a gallon left, Grandma pointed to a metal building that looked like it was vacant. The parking lot had a scattering of vehicles.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" I asked.

Grandma pointed to the words over the glass double doors: God's Temple. Great. So it isn't a Catholic church and I didn't need to worry what Father What-A Waste would say when he saw my lack of outfit when mass was over.

Grandma took me by the elbow and ushered me to a section where we would have a a clear view of the altar. "Do you still hate me?"she asked once we were seated.

"Of course not." I grinned. "Too bad the music is so bad this morning. Not at all motivating." There was a strain of something playing on the stereo speakers, but I couldn't identify it. They could have been playing the Beetles White album and I wouldn't have known it. My eyes were riveted to the front of the place, what was happening there was sacred. Holy even.

"True, but the view is terrific."

I sat back on the recumbent bicycle to watch the gym's most serious weight lifters and body builders begin their Sunday morning routine. "God really is good."

"Amen." Grandma said.

After Grandma was tired of watching the first round of weightlifters she wandered to the juice bar.

"Babe."

No big surprise, it was Ranger. He was hot and covered in sweat. Not even fitness models look that good so early on a Sunday morning. He shook his head and several drops started down the front of his very white, very soaked t-shirt. I knew where they were headed and really wanted to help tidy him up. His lips tilted about three degrees, a big smile for him, he nodded to the two of us and resumed h is routine.

"Maybe we can come back next week." Grandma said.

"Definitely, we should come back."

"Don't tell your mother."

"I won't tell her if you don't tell Morelli."

"Deal."

* * *

><p>AN: Just a bit of fun ... hope you enjoyed a little grandmother/granddaughter bonding!


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